oil on canvas
by mayfairs
Summary: She should have known it wasn't real. /Character study/


_**oil on canvas**_

She should have known it wasn't real. /Character study/

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><p><strong>AN**: So, I believe this is very, very inaccurate since it's been a while since I've watched the series. An idea just came to me in the middle of the night, and seeing as I haven't been productive, I decided to give it a try. Inspired by the actual Puella Magi theme, which is _beautiful. _Kajiura Yuki is a genius, I swear. I hope you enjoy the fic, and please leave a review if you liked it! I'd be ver happy to hear from anyone c:

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><p>Homura gazed up at the blank, blank ceiling and willed her mind to conjure images of whatever it wanted to, since there was an odd ease here. She felt relaxed in a moment of obscurity, like a bee in a poppy field full of dead soldiers. Homura did not want to stand guard and be alert, and at least, she wanted to believe in her senses. They've kept her alive for so long, after all.<p>

It's like she could see the dust particles gathering under the meek sunlight, coming from the lone glass window to her left. With a Christian cross holding the glass together, it looked like an image from children's drawings – simplistic ideas, and nothing but simplistic ideas. Not practical and common in finding, rarely developed and never cared about. Tossed around like her life, for sometimes, she wondered if her existence was a simplistic one. It carried almost a hollow feeling, like she was a shell being covered with wet sand.

"I feel, dead most of the time. Oh what the hell, I am dead. I just happen to breathe, that's all," she remarked, thinking back to the first time she heard from Kyubey about soul gems and their real uses. She'd saw it so many times, thinking back didn't even trigger a feeling any more.

Yes, that's right, she was sitting in a psychiatrist's chair, a person who had the job of the listener, and boy, Homura had plenty to tell. Of course, vague words and vague places – she didn't like thinking about razor sharp details that both pained her mind into her very being.

"I have no idea what I should do, or what I _could _do, other than to complete my tasks. It's such a laughable existence, I think. Why I am still breathing? Why is my heart still going?" She was rather talkative than usual, but for some reason, she had a lot of her mind and was willing to let that flow out – it had been building up for a good couple of months.

"I keep going, and I'm always scared of stopping," she began, thinking back to cities with bright lights and strangers with indifferent faces, "I go to where I'm needed. I stay alone, because what's already happened is enough drama for a lifetime. I don't need to know anyone else. I _don't _need to..."

Perhaps she was stuck in the past. She'd been attached for far too long, and Homura's often restless. It's rare that peace ever finds her, even though she looked so hard for it. Just one full stop for a lifetime of ellipsis... was that so hard to do?

The lump that was in her throat wasn't as thick and her head wasn't as numb. Sure enough, she'd been here too many times to count, but it never really _goes away. _It was one of those constant reminders telling her _you're not getting off this easily _and that _are you really lucky to still be breathing? _

_Are you really?_

Homura wasn't confident enough to answer that question. Either way, it was an unhappy ending.

If she stared at the walls too long, her mind would play tricks on her. From cage after cage of labyrinths and traps, her mind was _too _sharp, cutting through the boundaries with ease. The grey would start swirling and she would have started to see faces belonging to history, crimes committed by those who sold their souls, and faces hidden in a sea of people. _Don't bother breathing, no one would notice you, _it would have reminded her.

Homura suddenly jolted and jumped in shock. Looking to her left, her old machine gun had decided to sit by her. She picked it up with ease and familiarity, suddenly calmed by it's existence. That thought was more of a trigger than anything though, and tears started streaming down her face in big round droplets, like rain. But not like rain.

Trembling fingers caressed her own skin, feeling the smoothness of it with her own fingertips. Yes, she was still here. Her face was still wet.

"_Homura-chan, I think it's time you went. Maybe stay and notice your surroundings a little more. You're never alone. I'm here. I'm still here. I'll carry your burdens and you'll be fine, I promise. So please... try and move over this obstacle. You shouldn't cling onto obstacles."_

In realisation, Homura got up to her feet and looked to her right -

_M-_

_-si puella magica-_

Head clearer, eyes wide open and staring at the same dust particles, she realised she was in her hotel room. Her eyes caught on to Kyubey, who looked the same as yesterday, the day before, and years before that.

"What's wrong, Homura? Did you have a bad dream?"

_-taenia memoriae-_

"No," Homura's eyes grew wider as she felt a little queasy. "In fact, I think, no, I _know_, that it was the best dream I've had for a long long while now."

Every mucsle felt a little numb, but she managed a small smile.

Then she started crying again.


End file.
